Written in the stars

Alaric listened as the female responded. Pleiada Deathborne. He committed the name to memory. Then, the she wolf spoke of the mountains and hunting. His mind flickered back to his childhood mountain range, the same range that later became his prison cell. After the raid, the slavers saw no need to build new slave quarters. They turned the pillaged dens into slave quarters. So Alaric's childhood den became where he was kept. He refocused his mind back to Pleiada as she moved. He watched her carefully. "You'll find plenty of prey I'm sure. I'm not sure of safe passage, however. There are moments of packs in these lands. Some friendly, some not." He told her with clearing of his throat. "I wouldn't try to figure out which is which." He warned her. Packs were pesky things in his mind. The corrupt guiding the weak into thinking they were strong. He motioned for Cinder and Maul to settle, watching as the cane corsos settled down onto their hinds next to each other.

"Your pack is here in the lands? Or is it just you?" He didn't smell others on her. He didn't see others either. He wondered if they were just late to the party or not there at all.